


The Ghost of You Lingers

by tanwenmc



Category: Dark Matter (TV)
Genre: Alien Sex, Aliens, M/M, Mind Break, Other, Oviposition, Spitroasting, Tentacle Rape, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, past One/Three
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 11:31:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12231960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanwenmc/pseuds/tanwenmc
Summary: One and the Dwarf Star alien. Two beings that have touched Three that are gone from his life.Well, sort of.





	The Ghost of You Lingers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Themisto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themisto/gifts).



> Title from a song by Spoon.

Three stands on the bridge of the Raza, looking out into the void. The oppression of that endless blackness seems to gnaw at the very edges of his soul. His hand twitches, as though to reach out for another's —

Cool fingers brush the back of his hand, then entwine themselves with his. He looks up, startled, into the face of One. Not the face of Derrick Moss, that was plastered across all the major news networks for weeks after his death. Not the face of Jace Corso, a hardened and unyielding face that had seen nearly as much pain as Marcus Boone's.

It's unmistakably _One_ who stands next to him, holding his hand, a soft smile tugging at his face. The breath catches in Three's throat. He is aware, suddenly, that he is dreaming, and that this is a most unusual dream. Everything feels clear, and sharp, as though there really is a hand pressed into his. His dreams are not usually so vivid, and he rarely recognizes them for what they are until he wakes up.

One is turning towards him, and Three turns to meet him, lips parting. He kisses One like a man dying from lack of oxygen, like this kiss can somehow anchor the other man, bring him back from the grave. And for a few blissful moments, it's like none of the months of pain and mourning ever actually happened.

But then there's a sudden shift, and he's not kissing One anymore, he's kissing something … _else_. And this, too, is a touch that he recognizes less than a second after he first feels it.

 _The alien_. The one that was put into him at Dwarf Star. The one that the rest of the crew _spaced_. It's dead, and it's never coming back, he's —

Three takes a step back and sees a swirl in One's eyes, sees the color of his skin shift to a deep steel blue. He never actually saw the alien, but he's suddenly certain that the skin tone is a match for the alien's true form. He watches in horror as long tentacles unfold themselves from the back of One's neck and start reaching towards him. He reaches for his gun as he backs away, swearing incoherently, but his gun isn't there, and his back hits the wall within seconds. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

One's mouth twitches in a smile, but when the lips open it's nothing but inky blackness inside, more tentacles spilling out and reaching inexorably towards him. Three ducks, rolls off to the side, dodges a tentacle trying to grab his leg. Two more steps before he's seized, pulled backwards. He struggles to break free, tries to push back against the tentacles. Belatedly, he remembers this is a dream and tries to _will_ himself away, and awake.

He feels the laughter before he sees it, before he sees that terrible mouth opening again. " _I have been here too long to be dislodged so easily."_ The tentacles shift against his body, sending a shiver up his spine. " _I know the inside of your mind better than you do. I have seen your memories, Marcus Boone."_

"My name is Three." He spits the words through clenched teeth, trying again with mind and body to free himself.

" _Three, then."_ The alien shifts, appearing in front of him in One's form.

"And stop looking like _him_. Pick someone else. _Anyone_."

" _Ah, but taking his form is how I will convince to you agree to my demands."_ The tentacles drop away, the eyes and skin tone shift, and the face is One's again. _"I can return him to you. I can use your memories to create a semblance of him that lives inside your mind. You will be together here."_

"Oh yeah?" Three fights off the mixture of longing and sadness that crashes over him, summoning anger instead. Anger is good. Anger keeps him focused on the problem. "And what happens with my body?"

" _Clever boy."_ Ink returns to One's eyes. " _I walk as you and spread myself and my kind amongst yours."_

His answer takes no thought at all. "Go to hell."

" _Where is this vaunted true love that the stories speak of? Where is the willingness to do anything for the return of one's beloved?"_

"First, I'm not a romantic. Never was." Three takes a deep breath, makes himself stare the alien One in the face. "Second, there's … fighting a dragon, or whatever fairy tale crap you've heard of, and then there's allowing your entire race to be taken over by squid monsters from — where the hell are you from, anyways?"

_"What would you care? You would know none of it. You would live the rest of your days in ignorance."_

"Despite what you might have heard, ignorance isn't bliss."

" _If that were true, you would have reclaimed your memories,_ Three."

Three tilts his head to the side, conceding the point. "I'm still not doing it."

" _I offered you the easy way."_ The skin tone goes steel blue again, the tentacles that are still wrapped around his body reach out to touch the image of One. " _Now we shall have to try the hard way."_

The tentacles that hold Three tighten, then relax, then tighten again. He feels the press of liquid warmth against his bare skin, his clothes vanishing through dream logic. The tentacles slide gently up and down his entire body, testing, looking for the spots that make him seize up and shiver. They cradle the back of his neck and spread his legs wide.

The alien-One steps through the tentacles to kiss him. At the same instant, something warm and soft wraps itself around his dick and he is suddenly, unwillingly, hard. His mouth tingles pleasantly with the movements of the — _shit_ , it's not tongue but _fucking tentacles_ , and he gags, tries to spit, tries to scream —

" _Hush, now."_

The panic vanishes. Three raises his head, muzzily, to look into One's eyes. The ink swirls in their depths, the patterns complex and soothing. _Ink. That's not … not …_

" _You still think that you have any say in how this goes. I have been inside your mind since that day at Dwarf Star. I was chosen to come through early for a reason, Three. My abilities far outstrip the rest of my race, and are far beyond anything that your pathetic species could ever dream of. You can fight me. You can kick and scream the whole time. Or you can accept that you will lose and make this more pleasurable for you."_ The tentacles move all at once, sliding up and down his body, leaving him gasping at the sheer sensuality of it. He knows he's getting harder by the moment and tries to summon hatred for that thought.

" _Shall we begin with pleasure or pain?_ _The choice is yours, my Three."_

"Not — _yours —_ "

" _Pain, then."_ And then there's something _inside_ him, something black and horrible and it's trying to fucking _claw_ its way _out_ of him. He screams, tries to clutch at his stomach, but the tentacles are holding him tight, keeping him frozen in place. A slick tentacle caresses the back of his neck, a sense of soothing pressure. It's not enough to offset the sheer terror that the continuing roiling sensation inside him brings.

 _"This is but one of the ways that I could take you."_ The pain, the pressure seems to increase. _"And not even the worst way."_

Abruptly, the clawing sensation ceases, and all that Three can feel is the continued presence of the tentacles holding him in place. He looks up again, into that familiar-unfamiliar face, the alien wearing a mask. The face twists into a smile. _"Shall I continue?"_

"Well, sure," Three says, in between shallow gasps. "We were … just getting to the fun part."

He feels the alien laugh, somewhere in the depths of his mind. He could swear that he feels the sensation rippling through his body, except that he is still acutely aware of how tightly the tentacles hold him. _"Ah, yes. We_ were _just getting to the fun part."_

The tentacles start that sliding motion again, a slow but continuous move, pricking every hair on his skin, exciting every nerve. He has to close his eyes against the intensity of it, a gesture that feels like he is conceding something to the alien. Three can swear he feels some of them _dividing_ as they move, thick limbs splitting into thin ones, splitting again tendrils. His legs spread apart, the thick tentacles putting pressure while the thin ones start sliding — up — and inside —

"Oh, _hell_ no." He struggles in earnest for the first time in what feels like ages. "No, no, and —"

His words are stopped as a tentacle slithers inside his mouth. The rising panic starts again, the need to _breathe_ and _swallow_ overriding any bit of common sense or restraint he might have had left.

" _There's no need for that."_ It's as though a switch has been flipped inside his mind. A part of him screams at the abruptness, knowing it's unnatural, knowing it's forced. But it is a distant scream. The rest of him simply … accepts. He stops struggling.

_"Isn't that better?"_

He nods, once, the only movement he particularly feels like at the moment. He can't remember why he was panicked a moment before. The thin tentacles have slid their way up his ass, beginning to probe. His legs spread themselves even wider, giving the tendrils more room to work. Their gentle touches make him shiver, creating a kind of feedback loop with the continued contact from the sensuous limbs wrapped around his body.

The tentacle in his mouth passes across his tongue, and he feels the urge to suck on it. As soon as he does, he feels a wave of pleasure that would have brought him to his knees if his legs weren't being securely held apart. Another tentacle gently brings his erection out and up, lightly caressing. He shivers, twitches, and feels the bonds constricting, holding him even tighter. His heartbeat increases — from anticipation or fear, he's not quite sure.

He's almost unbearably hard, his mind held in the delicious state of wanting more and needing release at the same time. The tentacle that holds his erection is firmly closed around it, pumping like a hand; the one in his mouth seems to be sliding all the way down his throat and into his stomach. Three is suddenly sure that he's _filled_ with them, and his body practically sings with the pleasure of it all. He'd be moaning incessantly if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied, his instincts and habits keeping him sucking. He's not the type to find blowjobs pleasing for their own sake, but this one is different. The tingles in his mouth seem to shoot straight up through his sinuses to his very mind. He imagines the tendrils spreading through there, too; the thought of them penetrating every nook and cranny of his body makes him gasp with the beginning of a long-awaited climax.

The pace increases, each tentacle seeming to vibrate within him, pulsing in time to the thrumming of his cock. He hears himself moaning and realizes that he can breathe again, though the pressure in his mouth hasn't lessened in the slightest. " _Fuck —_ yes — there — _harder, harder —"_

His alien lover takes him at his word. The tentacles seem to press more forcefully on him than they did before, the pressure increasing to an almost unbearable level. The tentacles no longer restrain his movement. Instead, they cling to his body as it moves, hips jerking as he thrusts into the air, head tilted all the way back in the sheer unadulterated pleasure of it all.

The aftermath of that powerful climax leaves him dazed, still full from head to toe with the alien's tentacles and ink. His mind conjures up images of the ink mixing with his blood, of those fine tendrils sliding up his spine and into his brain. Giving it direct access to …

Before the implications of that have a chance to sink in, Three sees the One image before him again, and he smiles. It feels so good to have his lover back, even in such an odd state. He always craved One's presence more than he ever dared articulate, projecting an aloofness that was at odds with his deep desire for the other man's affections.

" _I will never leave you,_ " One promises. This comforts Three immensely. He sighs in happy repletion, eyes closing. He could stay like this forever.

* * *

His alarm brings him to wakefulness. He looks down to see that he has already taken himself in hand to help with his lingering erotic dream. They've been happening more recently, his prolonged and involuntary abstinence leading to vivid images of getting fucked hard by One. He's just glad that it wasn't a nightmare about the alien. Now _there's_ a boner-killer if there ever was one.

Three lets his eyes go half-lidded as his hand picks up speed. He can almost feel a hand on the back of his neck, another resting on his hip as though in encouragement. _Do it for me. I love watching you come._

It's not a bad way to start the day, all things considered. Even the unpleasant rumbling of his stomach, suggesting some bad food in the past few days, isn't enough to undo the pleasant haze his dreams left him in. He showers, and dresses, combing his hair into a semblance of order.

For just the briefest of moments, he thinks he sees a flicker in his eye — and then it's gone. A mere trick of the light. _Whatever_. Time to get breakfast.


End file.
